Rikudō Sennin
by Bijuu
Summary: The Rin'negan was regarded as a god of creation when the world was racked with chaos and as a weapon of destruction which could return everything to nothingness. Now, follow the first user of the venerable doujustu - the Rikudō Sennin - during his life.
1. Prologue: Chaos Land

**Summary:** The Rinnegan was regarded as a god of creation when the world was racked with chaos and as a weapon of destruction which could return everything to nothingness. Now, follow the first user of the venerable doujustu - the Rikudō Sennin - during his life and to his death during the chaos surging throughout the world, centuries before the formation of the Five Great Countries.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto or any of the concepts, blah, blah, blah.

**A/N:** Oh jesus, lol. I can't believe I'm writing this. I... can't really say much. Just enjoy this for what it is. As it stands, there's _very_ little information about the Naruto world's history. I'm probably going to tread on some toes and make many people angry, but I want to craft a believable history. In truth, I'm free to craft the world from scratch... almost.

I'm... not sure on the update frequency, but this is the _first_ fic I've seen in this genre. Umbra Witch is still my first project. This is a side-project - an _ambitious _one - but a side-project nonetheless.

For now, enjoy.

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**Rikud****ō**** Sennin  
**_Prologue: Chaos Land  
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Merrily, a fire crackled, the crimson embers dancing throughout the night-time chill, the dim light illuminating the mysterious, imposing figure staring into the campfire somberly.

"War..." he whispered, running a calloused hand through his spiky hair, appearing silver in the flickering campfire. His thought were tumultuous. Endless war wrought the land, throwing the once-peaceful times into endless chaos; fathers fought sons over petty disagreements, once-loyal brothers discarding their bonds. Mothers, daughters, sisters, _civilians..._

No one was safe in this chaos land.

He palmed his forehead and continued to stare into the merrily crackling fire, as if seeking the answers he so sought after in the dancing flames. He sought peace, but man sought war, to plunge the world into a destructive spiral. He was, but one man, a single shinboi versus millions. He grasped the khakkhara in his right hand, the six golden rings jingling softly. What could he do? He travels took him far and wide into across numerous warrior countries, preaching the word of Ninshū - the Shinobi Sect - with little success. Humans were uninterested in his religion, the truth of chakra alluding them. Each town was the same; scorn was brought down swiftly and he was banned from entering several cities all across the countries, but still, he carried on. He sought the stars to guide him, letting his feet guide him on the path to true enlightenment, seeking to bring the winds of change to hundreds of thousand world-weary souls.

A humorless chuckle escaped his mouth. Was it worth it, wasting his time saving people whom didn't wish to be saved? He was cresting on his thirties, wasting several years of his life, traveling from city, to village, to town, trying to spread the ideas of his religion... of _chakra_, this wonderful source of power contained within all living beings, whether they be creature, human or organism.

_'No,'_ he thought, firming his resolve. People were skeptical and understandably so; chakra was wondrous, _amazing_. He hadn't believed the origin of chakra when he first discovered it, but he discovered his own, unique power, the merrily dancing flames illuminating his eyes for a brief moment, displaying three black ripples traveling outward from his pupil, surrounding the iris and reaching the sclera before stopping, a gray-purple enveloping both eyes.

The Rin'negan, the Samsara eye. He could _see_ chakra, he could manipulate it seamlessly with little to no practice; even now, as he stared into the crackling flames with his ripple-like eyes, he could see an faint, but unnatural light green tingle tinting the ground, the trees, _nature_ itself. If he didn't have these wondrous eyes, he'd find his own ideals laughable. Mystical energy allowing super-natural feats? It was unheard of. Still, he wanted... no, he _needed_ to convince people, to coax them into believing his otherworldly tales.

It was a hard pill to swallow when people didn't immediately jump upon the idea of peace. His passionate preaching was seen as the ravings of a mad-man, a once pious priest gone insane; even the mysterious Rin'negan hadn't converted disbelievers, many simply believing he was possessed or corrupted by demons. He scoffed at these accusations, but still, he understood. He didn't like it, however, he understood.

"This is a hard pill to swallow," he murmured underneath his breath, listening to the light breeze rustling the forest surrounding him, eyes concentrated upon those bright flames.

He wouldn't relent.

He would continue to spread his ideals until his death bed, if need be. He - the self-proclaimed Rikudō Sennin, Takeda Hitoshi - swore it now.

* * *

"Brothers!" exclaimed the robed monk, brandishing his staff high, the six golden rings jingling. "Sisters!" proclaimed the spiky-haired sage, his loud shouts attracting weary crowds. "Heed my now, my friends! The time of your salvation -," at these words, several on-lookers faces twisted from weary to shock and than morphed into disgust, "- is now! I, the Rikudō Sennin, preach the words of Ninshū, to save you from these troubling times! Chakra - a mystical source of energy - exists within us all," shouted the leader of the Shinobi Sect. Interested people now started to leave, disgust twisting their once-pleasant features, shaking their heads as they went.

"You're mad, monk!" bellowed a black-haired samurai, his grip tightening noticeably on his sword. "This energy... This... _chakra_ you speak of, do you have proof, monk?" questioned the warrior, an eerie grin twisting his features. His words caused Hitoshi to frown, running a hand uneasily through his spiky hair.

"Of course, you foolish man. Look into my eyes!" he bellowed, widening his gaze and allowing all the on-lookers to view the ripples present where white should be. People recoiled in surprise and disgust.

"You lie, monk! You're a demon!" ranted the same man, hand grasping the hilt of his katana, turning his knuckles white with pressure. "Your eyes have been mutated by the demons!" exclaimed the warrior, breaking through the crowd with his broad shoulders, the traditional armor he wore clinking as he walked.

"This is no mutation, my fellow man. This is a gift from the _gods!_ I, Takeda Hitoshi, am here to save you from the demons of war! Can't you see what this fighting is doing to our countries? Wives are being widowed constantly, children left without fathers or brothers! This senseless violence needs to cease!" preached Hitoshi, the necklace of magatama jingling as he swayed, six eerie, curved beads threaded through the necklace. Unnoticed, the grip upon his khakkhara tightened, knuckles turning white, preparing himself.

"Leave this place, monk," offered the samurai, unsheathing his katana and holding it aloft, pointing the tip in the direction of the white-robed sage. "I offer you one chance. Leave this town and _never_ return, under the threat of death," said the man. Hitoshi's teeth ground against each other, grip further tightening against his ringed staff.

"I yield... for now, but heed my words: _I shall return,_" he said, suddenly pivoting on his heel, robes billowing about his heels as he strode from the center of the small town he entered not even five minutes previous, the samurai keeping a watchful eye on the disappointed monk.

Another day, another failure.

* * *

Returning to his campsite with another failure was a hard pill to swallow, yet again. He proclaimed himself a benevolent savior; years of preaching, of traveling between settlements and he hadn't a single follower or believer in his Ninshū. The concept of chakra seemed to allude the common folk. He needed a method to display this extraordinary energy to the general public. He needed to develop techniques that used chakra visible to the naked eye, not simply to ones blessed by the gods, such as himself.

The question is, _how_ could he make chakra visible to others? He knew it existed within all living beings. He could manipulate the chakra coils within his own body with ease, allowing him temporary boosts to strength and agility for as long as his concentration lasted.

_'Well...'_ he mused, holding his left hand out, palm up and concentrated. With his Rin'negan, he could see a concentration of blue growing bright underneath his palm, but still, no chakra leapt to the surface. He couldn't relinquish control of the doujustsu, but his depth perception stayed top-notch. He shook his hand, the swirling chakra dissipating immediately. What could he do? He needed to make techniques... _visible_ techniques. Channeling didn't help produce chakra in a visible spectrum. He needed a medium through which to manipulate or channel chakra, but what? An object, perhaps? Symbols? Charms? There were so many different possibilities it was almost endless.

It was a small comfort there were such possibilities for this energy, threading his fingers through his spiky, elbow-length hair.

Damn.

_'This is harder then I thought,'_ he mused, a mirthless chuckle escaping from his lips. He felt like screaming to relieve his frustration. '_Trying to bring peace to the world is tough business,'_ he thought, watching fallen leaves dance in the wind, the breeze jingling the six golden rings tauntingly, jolting the contemplative man from his revere. _'Right. Focus. There's plenty of time for rest later, Hitoshi. For now, figure out a method to display chakra to others,'_ he thought, firming his resolve, tapping the butt-end of his staff against the dirt, rising from the log he sat upon, starting to pace through the small clearing he resided in.

'_Right, from step one: Chakra, what is it?'_ he thought.

To be honest, he wasn't sure himself. Without the Rin'negan, he'd be just as ignorant as the people he preached to. It took him years of meditation and constant practice after receiving the Rin'negan to discover how to mold chakra within himself, but his persistence prevailed and a chance happening allowed him to discover the method: By molding together two different energies, the physical - called chi - and the mental - called reiatsu - one formed chakra and then, he could use that combined energy to provide himself with enhanced strength and agility. Prolonged use exhausted him both physically and mentally, prompting the wise sage to be cautious when using chakra for an extended period, unwilling to discover what happened when one used too much of each source. Luckily, both his physical and mental training as a monk provided ample reserves for his testing.

Now, what else did he know?

The Rin'negan, the mystical eye. He was a spiritual person and believed this wonderful gift was a sign from the heavens. War and chaos ruled the land. His mutated eyes allowed him to see what other men couldn't; who wouldn't believe this was a gift from a greater power? The ripple-like eyes allowed his vision to see the swirling energies present in humans and this discovery led the once-monk to meditate, to discover how to unlock and use this energy. His goals weren't a hundred percent at the time. Once he learned how to mould chakra, he left the temple he trained at since his teenage years, leaving parting words and an explanation he was destined for quell this chaos. A single look at his mutated eye-sight and a brief explanation of the wondrous energy locked within all sentient creatures allowed him a pardon from the head monk at the time. The rest was history.

'_None of this helps!'_ he thought, frustrated, his pacing growing agitated, the jaunty jingle of his khakkhara's rings further increased these feelings.

Techniques... techniques... _techniques!_ He _needed_ techniques. The question: how would be develop them?

He continued to rack his brain long into the night.

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**A/N:** Whew, that was a dozy, definitely. This chapter isn't too long, even if I prefer writing longer chapters (see: Umbra Witch). This was an introduction to our protagonist and his goals. The sage didn't become a god overnight and bring peace in days. I'm trying not to step on the toes of the Naruto lore, at least, from what we know, which lessens the liberties I can use for this fic. But still, I see it as a challenge and one I'm only too happy to take. Plus, this seemed like a good stopping point. I find the prologue the hardest to write usually.

First, to explain the Rikudō Sennin's name:

His first name - Hitoshi - literally meaning "humanity; virtue; benevolence", which fits the sage's ideals perfectly. His last name - Takeda - translates into "warrior rice field". Benevolent Warrior fits the sage perfectly. The "rice field" part, well... It could translate into "Benevolent Warrior in the rice field", I suppose. Once again, this isn't an official name. If - or when - Kishimoto releases his true name and it's in anyway similar, well, that's a pure coincidence.

As I said before, this is purely a side-project, perhaps updated once every few weeks to a month. I did find this little prologue much more challenging than either three chapters of Umbra Witch.

As always, if I missed spelling or grammar errors, please, don't hesitate to point these out in either a review or private message.

Anyway, 'til next time, Bijuu signing out.


	2. Chapter 1: We are, but human

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Naruto or any of the concepts, blah, blah, blah.

**A/N:** Another day, another chapter. This one came out earlier than expected, surprisingly. I wasn't really planning on releasing this before another chapter of Umbra Witch, but the idea for this chapter slammed into me and wouldn't leave 'til I wrote it down. It was a tad harder than the prologue to write as well, simply because I wanted to get this as close to perfection as I could.

For my four fans and future readers, this one is for you.

So, here it is, the first epic chapter in the **Rikud****ō**** Sennin** saga.

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**Rikud****ō**** Sennin  
**_Chapter 1: We are, but human_

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Throughout the night, Hitoshi's thoughts were tumultuous. Continuously, he wracked his brain for possible ideas. He wanted... no... _needed_ techniques to impress people, to convert disbelievers into followers of Ninshū. His constant, agitated pacing carved a rut into the soft dirt beneath his geta, the taunting jingle of his khakkhara ringing in his ears, mocking his tormented mind.

It seemed chakra was a fickle mistress, but one the white-haired sage was only too willing to tame.

For now, the frustrated sennin slept and dreamed, but even in his own mind, he found no comfort, his tormented thoughts continuing while he slept. He _knew_ he needed to develop these techniques or his chance of purging the chaos from the land was nonexistent. He _needed_ a single technique to prove his ramblings weren't the product of a crazed soul. Even during his dreams, he continued to pick apart all he knew about this wondrous source of energy, trying to develop a method to pull chakra into the visible spectrum. Still, he continued to come up blank.

Thus, the once-monk tossed and turned all throughout the night, a cold sweat drenching his forehead; even his dreams offered little comfort to the white-haired man.

'_W... What am I missing?'_ he roared inside his mind, suddenly jolting awake and sitting up, throwing his sleeping bag aloft, his breath coming out in wheezing, panting gasps, fingers grasping his forehead tightly.

"What... am... I... _missing?_" he roared into the inky darkness of the night. There wasn't a single star glimmering in the nighttime sky, almost as if the world was mocking the tormented hermit. He slammed a single fist into the soft dirt below him, repeatedly, one after another, his other hand joining moments later, his thoughts tormented, swirling inside his mind.

He knew sleep wouldn't come easily, even as his fists pounded in a steady rhythm against the innocent earth, his uneasy thoughts fueling his rage... his _anger_ at himself for being unable to solve his dilemma. He _knew_ he was being much too hard on himself, but years of failure drove his mounting anger to new heights. The constant rhythm of his relentless fists grew more and more unsteady the longer he allowed his frustration to go on unchecked, the fist-sized holes in the earth growing in depth as he did.

_What _was he _missing_? He _wanted_ to decipher this nerve-wracking problem. He _needed_ to solve this frustrating dilemma. World-weary souls and disbelievers spread across the land counted on _him _- Takeda Hitoshi - to cease this senseless fighting and constant, warring era once and for all.

"Damnit... damnit... _damnit!_" he exclaimed, burying both fists into the fertile earth beneath him, bent over, exhausted breaths passing through his lips in panting gasps.

Sleep wouldn't come again to Hitoshi this night.

* * *

In the morning, a weary Hitoshi found himself walking through the still forest, eyes half-lidded and staff clinking as he walked, his thoughts still on his current dilemma.

Oh, how it tormented him. He was, but one man, trying to bring the warring countries to salvation through an untested and un-followed religion. Exhaustion started to overcome the world-weary fellow. He hadn't solved his pressing issue in the few hours since his erupting anger, quelled for now. He observed the world through the mystical Rin'negan, watching the endless cacophony of green swirling throughout the trees and the vegetation surrounding him.

It was a beautiful and calming sight. Massaging his temples with a free hand, the once-monk sighed and looked to the endless blue skies, trying to seek the answers through the white clouds lazily drifting by. Unfortunately, the white fluff offered no solace to the tormented chakra user. He felt like he was on the brink of an epiphany. He was the first and _only_ user of chakra that existed. If it was a different source of energy, perhaps he could bounce ideas off another soul until this pressing issue solved itself through intelligent discussion.

He stopped, dragging his palm downward and releasing a breath. Retracting his hand, he stared at the calm, blue chakra running throughout his fingers; before he discovered how to mould chakra, nothing appeared. He could see chakra in a visible spectrum due to his gift, but that was it. Other energies he remained ignorant toward. He would've remained blissfully unaware of chi and reiatsu had he not trained as a monk in his teenage tears. One of the final lessons was to learn how to harness these energies, but neither he nor centuries of past monks - much more experienced them him - tried to combine the two energies. While both physical and mental energies were powerful, chakra was ten-fold and _much_ more potent. It was like night and day to him.

'_Think, Hitoshi, think! What are you missing?'_ he pondered, running his free hand through the silver spikes adorning his head. _'Hundreds of thousands of lives depend on your religion. You __**must **__solve this dilemma,'_ he thought, trying to coax himself with words, but it was all in vain. No answers leapt to the forefront of his mind. He didn't want to preach without proof - he, Takeda Hitoshi - afraid of yet another failure. It was amusing, especially considering he was much too brash in his youth like most men of this era were. People respected strength and money. Religion was an after-thought to most, a sad truth of the world and preaching an unknown, untested faith was a recipe to fail, but still, he _tried._ He preached, he ranted and raved until his face was blue and this throat ached in protest. He was thrown and banned from more towns than he could count, but still, he continued undeterred.

Until his latest failure, at least. Seven long, wandering years and hundreds of failures would break even the strongest of men and Hitoshi wasn't an exception to this rule. His faith was strong, his facts straight and honest, but still, people reeled in disbelief.

He felt like laughing, but he held the mirthless noise in his throat.

What could he do? What could he do? _What could he do!_

He felt responsible for the countless deaths plaguing the country due to the constant war permeating throughout the land. An unfounded responsibility - to be sure - but one he still felt he owed.

Suddenly, he pivoted and deflected the rather shabby arrow shot toward his person, the flimsy wooden shaft breaking easily underneath the metal of his khakkhara.

'_Bandits,_' he bemoaned, resting the butt of his ringed staff against the soft forest floor. Bandits, unfortunately, happened to be commonplace in this war torn landscape. Many people lost their homes, families, friends, jobs... It was one of the plagues he wished to banish from the world, but he had little confidence he'd be successful in unifying the entire world and purging war completely. Some truly wished for the constant conflict, the rush of adrenaline that flowed throughout their bodies when engaged in fighting or harrowing situations. It was fortunate he wasn't defenseless, his martial prowess was almost second to none.

"What do you want, bandits? As you can see, I have no belongings," said the sennin, arms stretched wide, voluminous sleeves displaying nothing hidden inside their depths. A mirthless chuckle was his answer.

"Monk, leave the staff and necklace and you shall leave this forest... _alive,_" threatened the unseen bandit. Another arrow whistled through the stillness of the air, the wizened monk brushing the flimsy fletching to the side with another effortless gesture.

"I have no conflict with you, my fellow man. I'm a pious, peace-seeking savoir," he replied, paying little heed to his threat. "I wish to purge the eternal chaos from this land and to unite the people underneath my banner, the religion of Ninshū - the Shinobi Sect," he finished, tapping the butt-end of his metalwork against the forest floor. "Perhaps you, my unseen friend, wish to convert?" he wondered, but received a humorless chuckle for his efforts.

"Noble, monk, but futile. You must realize the chaos which engulfs the land is man-made?" voiced the unseen man. Hitoshi nodded, weary eyes glancing toward the general direction of the voice.

"Of course, my friend, but the world needs a savoir. This... _war_ will drive the world into utter ruin!" exclaimed the weary warrior. "I've seen what it does to families! Fathers clashing with sons, brothers ruthlessly murdering mothers due to differing ideals... I want to _save_ these weary souls! I want to deliver heartfelt words to the exhausted people of this land!" ranted the former monk, khakkhara slashing through the still air before him. "Can you _not_ agree, my good fellow? You sound like an intelligent man. Become my first follower, _please._ I'm on a breakthrough, I just _know_ it... Just a few more days and I'll have tangible proof that chakra _exists!_" he finished.

"Chakra?" guwaffed the hidden man. "Chakra_?_ You're mad, monk! You hail yourself as a savior, but instead, you've been consumed by the very demons you seek to banish!" roared the man. Hitoshi narrowed his rippled eyes in distaste.

"Another disbeliever?" he sounded amused now. "Leave, my friend. I have no wish to harm the people I wish to deliver from chaos," he finished, dipping his head in a stiff form of respect. Suddenly, another arrow whistled through the air and again, it was batted aside with little effort. However, a quick pivot and Hitoshi found his staff locked with a katana, standard issue. He was reminded of the comfortable weight of his own looped through his obi, hung from his left hip. "I see. Cunning, but wasted, my friend," he said, amused.

"Be wary, monk. Cunning isn't my only _strength_," replied the grizzled man, sporting unkempt hazel-hued hair, complete with week-old stubble and the beginnings of a beard on his chin.

Hitoshi quirked a brow in response. "Oh? What else?" quizzed the spiky-haired monk, prompting the burly bandit to press forward with his katana, the deadlock ending, the wizened monk pressed back a few inches. "I see," he mused, unworried still. His opponent possessed more bulk, but then again, he wasn't enhancing himself with chakra, the single greatest advantage he had over the unruly road thief. The unnamed man disengaged his deadlock and retreated, but the ex-monk stood his ground, brandishing the ringed weapon toward the bandit.

"One more chance, monk. Surrender the belongings you do possess and I won't needlessly spill your blood," prompted the man, drawing another quirked brow from the hermit.

"Surely you jest, my friend. I have no quarrel with you," explained the Ninshū founder. His response was an amused chuckle from the burly bandit.

"Your funeral, monk," he said, rolling his shoulders. Suddenly, he sprinted forward; the distance between the two wasn't more than a few meters and thus, the man closed the distance in seconds. Hitoshi met his opponent once again with his khakkhara, an uneasy grinding noise filling the once tranquil forest. Another deadlock.

"You cannot win, my friend. Please leave," offered the wizened monk. Quirking his eyebrow amusedly, the unkempt fellow pressed forward, succeeding in pushing Hitoshi a few inches back.

"It seems that I'm stronger then you, monk!" crowed the grizzled man, a twisted grin splitting his features. Suddenly, the deadlock was broken, Hitoshi pulling his staff away with a sudden jerk, off balancing his opponent, which the sennin took immediate advantage of, slamming the butt of his metalwork staff against the man's gut, forcefully extracting the air from his lungs.

"URK!" he gasped, but Hitoshi didn't allow his recovery. He pressed forward, jamming the blunted end of his staff against the grizzled bandit's stomach again, winding the man. Hitoshi's sudden sweep caught the bandit by surprise, ending with the man laying on his back, greedily gulping in breaths of air, struggling to his feet. He froze, however, when he saw the point of the monk's sword against his throat, muddy brown eyes focused on the deadly weapon.

'_I... I didn't even see him unsheath his weapon!'_ he exclaimed, but never once moved his eyes from the sharpened blade.

"As I said, _please leave_," said Hitoshi once more. Now, the unruly bandit had no choice, but to comply with the monk's wishes. A faint nod of his opponent's head and Hitoshi removed his blade, though he didn't sheath it. "Please, rethink your career choices. Criminal actions only lead to unrest and bad karma," he explained. Suddenly, his assaulter went into a bellowing laugh.

"What? Do you expect me to turn to _honest_ work?" he questioned mockingly, controlling his sudden outburst. "Look around you, _monk_. Our world is crumbling at it's very foundation! Another few years and _nothing_ will be left," he explained hauntingly, though the sennin had already reached this conclusion. Unnoticed, the grip on his staff tightened, knuckles turning white. "You seek to unite the world through _peace_ and an unfounded religion? In these war-torn times?" he guwaffed. "A futile effort, monk," he finished, mockingly saluting the monk. "Good luck wasting your precious time on people whom don't wish to be saved," he laugh mockingly. He pivoted on his heel and disappeared into the thick vegetation of the forest, his taunting laugh ringing in the sennin's ears until it disappeared entirely.

Was he right?

Was he simply wasting his time? Did these people wished _not_ to be saved? Sheathing his katana, the tortured man found his rock-hard belief's shaken.

Continuing deeper into the forest toward his next destination, his thoughts turned tumultuous once again.

Did the people wish not to be saved...?

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**A/N:** Whew, the first chapter... complete! That was definitely a doozy. I wanted to make it believeable. As the title says, Hitoshi - while godlike in comparison with normal humans - is _still_ human. He still has his doubts, his fears, his own belief's. I'm trying to convey these in a believable sense. He's been on the road for years upon years now and he still hasn't succeeded in converting a single follower to his religion. He's disheartened and tormented by this fact.

Well, that's all I have to say for this chapter. Umbra Witch is on a slight hiatus for now. I seem to have encountered writers block, unfortunately. I know where I want the chapter to go, but I just can't seem to write to descriptively to my satisfaction.

Again, expect another update in a month or so. It's hard writing almost completely original material and once again, this is a _hobby. _Chapter length, well, fluxuates. I end a chapter when I believe the chapter _feels_ right to end. Sometimes, that might be after two thousand words, sometimes, it might happen after five. It's all circumstance.

'til next time,

Bijuu.


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